


Brown Wolf

by callunavulgari



Category: Curse Workers Series - Holly Black, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Curse Workers Fusion, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2871437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hales live in the woods above the town, and everyone knows they’re who you go to if you need cursework done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brown Wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaikamahine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaikamahine/gifts).



> So I did this meme on tumblr, where you give me the first sentence of a fic and I drabble up the rest of it right quick. Only problem is, kaikamahine is my heart-soul sometimes when it comes to fandom, and her prompts tend to turn big. So I ended up with all this headcanon and backstory and went, shit son, this is going to end up being 20k. So I had to step back and cut off the legs of this fic so I could get it to her before the year ends.
> 
> That said, I totally want to continue this sometime. Also write something else in the universe, because I want to write all the fic about Malia being a death worker.
> 
> Also, I went back and forth on the title a lot. Couldn't decide if I wanted to keep up the tradition of color + thing ala White Cat, Red Glove, Black Heart or if I wanted to use song lyrics again. In the end, tradition won out.

The Hales live in the woods above the town, and everyone knows they’re who you go to if you need cursework done. They get all sorts — though with a family whose talents are as diverse as theirs, no one is quite surprised by that. When cars with out-of-state license plates trickle into town, everyone knows that they’ll turn onto the long, winding road leading up to the Hale house. And if they don’t, well, chances are they just missed the turn.  
  
It would be a problem for them, if Stiles’ father didn’t have an understanding with Talia Hale. He’ll look the other way when the outsiders show up as long as the Hale family doesn’t cause too much of a fuss within the town itself.  
  
When Stiles was younger, he and Scott used to make a game out of it. A truck would roll by with Wisconsin tags and they would look at each other and guess which Hale the stranger was visiting.  
  
 _A mixed bag of tricks_ , his mother would call them, and it was true. Thirteen Hales live in those woods — fifteen if you count the grandparents who have been traveling the world for the better part of a decade — and of those thirteen, twelve are workers. Twelve, with everything from luck to death to make their living off of.  
  
Stiles, because he is curious and a policeman’s son, knows what every single one of them is registered as. So he knows exactly who to go to when things go to shit.  
  
Derek Hale doesn’t look very happy to see him, but then, Stiles hadn’t really expected him to. Comes with the stigma of being the sheriff’s son. No criminal ever seems happy to see you.  
  
“So, the thing is,” Stiles starts heavily, rotating his shoulders like he can roll the other man’s glare right off his back. “My best friend was turned into a wolf and I know that everyone’s supposed to think you work luck, but uh…”  
  
 _I’m not an idiot_ , he thinks. Derek Hale is the least lucky person he knows, and isn’t the type to get the bad kind of blowback. Talia wouldn’t _allow_ her son work that kind of shit. There have been other clues too, paperwork that doesn’t meet up and the twitch that developed at the corner of his dad’s mouth whenever he tried his hand at lying.  
  
Derek’s gaze sharpens, making an aborted step forward and only stopping when Stiles takes a hasty step back. He looks frustrated.  
  
“What do you want me to do about it.”  
  
Huh. Definitely not the voice he was expecting. Stiles blinks at the tic of Derek’s clenched jaw and hopes to hell that he’s right to think that Derek didn’t do this. If he is wrong, he’s pretty sure he’ll end up as something worse than a wolf. Like a rock. Or a cockroach.  
  
He steels himself, drawing himself up to his full height, and says, “I know what you are. And I need your help.”


End file.
